


The Fox in the Snow

by tomboy2012



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: And Peeta's there somewhere, F/M, Johanna and Katniss are BFFs, fashiondesigner!Annie, homeless!Finnick, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomboy2012/pseuds/tomboy2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. Who always has a book, but never a warm coat? Finnick Odair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fox in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this out of my head. Not sure about characterization, but I hope it's better than I thought it was.

She didn’t notice him until she needed somewhere to hide.

The paparazzi was the reason she’d moved out of New York in the first place, and probably held a large hand in why she’d finally cracked at Fashion Week last year. California wasn’t much better, no, it was so much _worse._ If one person saw her, the herd of shutterbugs multiplied within seconds.

They showed up in Canada, and almost every country in Europe. Cameras documented every step of her mental breakdown until intensive therapy was inevitable.

Annie still didn’t understand how the hell Katniss and Johanna has convinced her to come _back._

“Annie, how have things been?”

“Are you going to have another mental breakdown?”

“Any news on your upcoming line?”

“Annie, over here!”

“Annie!”

The lights flashed at the same time, blinding her. She stumbled forward into the sea of photographers. The streets of New York were no longer familiar. They were foreign ground, a place where she could be hunted out like prey.

She bit down on her tongue, resisting the urge to upheave her lunch. The worst part was that they _knew._ They knew more about her than Katniss and Johanna, her only family, did. And it didn’t make any sense. How did they find these things out?

“Please, just leave me alone,” She pleaded in a whisper. Her words were lost in a mass of anxiety, something that the sunglasses did nothing to shield her from. It felt like they’d been following her for blocks. Once she saw a corner, she turned it, no questions asked. There was no way she was leading them back to the apartment.

They walked right past the dark corner, overlooking her the way they did everyone else.

Annie’s chest was constricting. Sure, she’d gotten rid of them now, but how would she get back to the apartment if they were looking for her? She forced the breaths in and out, hands resting on her stomach the way she’d learned.

_Stop babying me_ , she’d said.

_I don’t need you to come with me_ , she’d said.

_I’ll be fine_ , she’d say.

Ugh. Annie banged her head against the murky red wall behind her. What a stupid, stupid move.

“Hold your breath.”

Annie jumped, back scratching against the wall that was holding her body up. With her head turned to the side, she could see a young man sitting behind her.

They weren’t completely alone, with people walking back and forth to cross sidewalks, but they were alone in the essence that no one would have documentation of this moment. A dark beanie was thrown haphazardly on his head, blonde strands of hair peeking out to play. What looked like a rather large book was open in his lap, and his eyes were trained on her.

Annie’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction of an inch. Men weren’t usually the ones who tried to follow her around, at least not because they were interested in her designs. Her eyes darted to the sidewalk, where there were actual people she could reach if she ran.

He wouldn’t do anything to her with people around, right?

“What?” The word fell out of her mouth in a clipped tone. A smile sat on the stranger’s face regardless.

“I told you to hold your breath because you didn’t look like you were breathing.” He said.

Annie blinked. “W-why?”

He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I’m not sure. Reverse psychology, or something?” His brows furrowed for a moment, eyes darting to his opened page. “Why weren’t you breathing?”

“I was breathing.”

“Not very efficiently. Your face is red.”

“My face is always red.”

“Like a tomato?”

Annie dug her teeth into her lip. “Why are you so nosy?” She shifted her weight between her legs.

She’d lived in the city before, during college, and seeing homeless people on the streets wasn’t out of the ordinary. This man was different, though. Even with his fraying jacket and the holes in the shoes that weren’t made for winter, his eyes danced with smiles. It was like he knew a secret that she didn’t.

And he didn’t have a cup, or bucket, or anything to ask for money. Annie didn’t realize it until her wallet was out.

His smile fell as soon as he saw it. “I don’t need your money.” His eyes seemed harder than before, all dancing ceased.

God, this was awkward.

Annie frowned. “You’re reading in an alleyway _outside_ in the middle of winter. And we’re on an island.”

“We’re in Manhattan.”

“Manhattan is an island.” Annie pulled the strap of her purse further up her shoulder.

“I wasn’t aware.” His mouth looked like it wanted to smirk, quirking to the side of his face. “I haven’t been here long.”

Annie began to bounce on her toes. Today wasn’t as hot as it could’ve been, but the weather still warranted a heavy jacket and hat, at the very least. She glanced at the hole in his shoe before she forced her eyes down.

“I don’t need your money, Annie Cresta. You can put your wallet away.”

Once, maybe three or four years ago, she would’ve been alarmed that he knew her name. Now, all she was a sigh growing in her chest. “You’re into fashion?” She asked instead.

He shrugged. “I suppose I could say yes, but I’d be lying to you.” He pointed down the alleyway, at what looked like a gigantic billboard hanging from a building. “It’s a little hard not to learn your name when it’s plastered everywhere.”

If she squinted, she could see several models wearing some of her designs. Her name ran across the advertisement in gigantic cursive letters.

Annie would be kidding herself if she said the blush in her cheeks was from the cold. She mumbled an apology.

No matter how many times she was recognized, the feeling would never go away. First there she felt pride at the fact that she had her own fashion line straight out of college. It was something her classmates dreamed about, something that seemed to just fall into her lap.

He stared at her like she was a rare species of animal. “I didn’t mention it because you were supposed to apologize. That’s something really big. You should be proud of that, you know?”

The other was fear. Fear that she was incompetent, that she designed ugly clothes, and that she’d let down yet another person.

And this was coming from a guy she’d only met a few minutes ago, in a shady looking alley way.

God, Johanna was going to kill her once she got back.

Annie sighed, shoving her wallet back into her purse. “If you don’t need money, what do you need?” She glanced at the hole before her eyes darted back towards his. Green, like the sea. She remembered the beaches in California, the beach at Montauk. A shiver racked through her body.

He leaned forward, like he was about to entrust her with classified information.

“Secrets,” He whispered.

Annie’s eyebrows drew together. She took a step back.

The sound of his laughing was like music, heavy and quiet at the same time. Nothing like the loud music that vibrated off of the walls, the only type they seemed to play at fashion shows.

“Why would I tell you a secret?” Her words were bewildered. He was a blend of too much uncertainty; too different from what she’d experienced before to be tame. “I don’t know who you are- I don’t even know your name. _What_?”

“Secrets don’t require names, Ms. Annie.”

He was like a little kid.

Annie chewed at the inside of her mouth, digging her hands into her pockets at another gust of strong wind. She’d give him money to help him out, so how were secrets any different? And, at this rate, she didn’t have much that the public didn’t already know about her.

She was so horrible at lying that she couldn’t even convince herself.

“I don’t have a favorite color.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“All of my designs are based on dreams, and I dream in black and white.” She took a breath. “I figure the only designs worth sharing are the ones that make it to my dreams.” She shrugged. “Not many colors make it to final designs.”

It was a secret she told herself she wouldn’t mind losing.

A man who asked for secrets instead of money was either a genius, or a lunatic. Could it be possible for him to be both?

 “That’s…” His voice trails off. White puffs escaped from his mouth as he spoke, signs of the cold environment. “That’s actually brilliant.”

The blush was back, and soon she was shaking her head.

“No, don’t doubt yourself. Everything is so…bright, and colorful, and it’s nice sometimes.” He said. “But your clothes are like fresh air. They’re simple, and that’s elegant.” 

She blinked. “You sound better than actual reviewers.”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling. “My name is Finnick. I’m sorry that my billboard wasn’t available for your viewing. It was scheduled for release in another week.”

Her lips twisted into a smirk against her will. “Let’s hope it doesn’t cover _mine_.”

He shook his head. “Never, Annie Cresta.”

* * *

Breaths flowed easily with each step. She didn’t realize he had stopped the attack until she noticed a hole in Katniss’ shoe.

“If you think you’re going anywhere on your own ever again, you’re mistaken.” Johanna ate her sandwich by tearing off bits of bread and meat with her teeth, like she was angry. Johanna did everything like she was angry.

Katniss only stared at Annie over her cup of coffee.

Annie picked at her fries. “It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal. I didn’t collapse in the middle of the street, did I?”

“Only because a random person helped you. That’s another thing…” Johanna trailed off as she took a sip of her drink. Annie’s eyes traveled around the small cafe. It was warm with the sounds and smells of people, smiles passed from one person to another and babies gurgling quietly.

“You can’t be depending on random people to help you out. You know what the paps will do if they catch you having a panic attack? They’ll take pictures. They’ll make it worse.” Johanna shook her head in disgust. It had taken Annie years to learn how to tell when things directed at her, and even now, she was still unsure.

“I don’t even think he realized what he was doing,” Annie said.

Johanna shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like when people steal my job.”

Katniss chuckled. “He looks like your type.”

“How would someone look like- wait, what?” Annie looked up from her plate. Katniss pointed out the window.

“That’s him, right? With the big book and small coat?”

“Damn, he looks like a hipster.” Johanna rolled her eyes. “Of course he’s your type, Ann.”

“When did we start talking about types?” Annie groaned. “I don’t want to talk about types.”

Katniss nodded, but didn’t bother to hide the smile on her lips. “And we won’t. We’ll talk about this year’s Fashion Week instead.”

Annie blinked at her. Johanna practically growled.

“What part of ‘ease her into it’ was fucking hard to understand?”

If the cursing bothered her, Katniss didn’t show it. She turned her body so that she was facing Annie. “Look, I know that it’s a sensitive topic for you, but this is your career we’re talking about. It’s been a year. If you don’t show up, don’t you think your popularity will start to dwindle?”

Annie stabbed a fry into the island of ketchup on her plate. “Most of the popularity I have now isn’t from what I’ve designed. People only care about how crazy I am, not about what I create.” She pointed another fry out the window, towards a pap with a camera. “I rest my case.”

Finnick blinked at the man before his eyes returned to Annie. Her eyes darted down.

“That’s bull and you know it. Everyone loves the shit that you design. I wear it, don’t I?”

“That’s because you get it for free.” Annie fixed Katniss with a knowing look. When she heaved a sigh, it felt like her body was too frail to hold the stress that New York Fashion Week would hold.

“But they don’t.” Johanna used her knife to point out two women sitting in the corner, both donning matching sweaters from the Annie Cresta Winter Collection. “The point is that you’re good as hell at what you do. Why let one slip up mess up your entire career?”

Annie let her head slump onto the table. “It already has,” She mumbled. She could practically hear her friends rolling their eyes.

“I’ll bet your friend doesn’t think so.”

Annie’s eyes dart up, but Finnick’s eyes were focused on his book.

“You’re a jerk, Johanna.”

The girl shrugged. “Is that all you’ve got, Cresta?”

“You should thank him,” Katniss suggested.

Annie’s eyebrows arched up. “Really? You don’t think he’s too dangerous looking?”

Katniss didn’t bat an eyelash. “If he helped you before, I think he passed the clearance test. Just because he doesn’t have anywhere to be doesn’t mean he’s a drug overlord.”

Johanna scoffed. “Something tells me that’s not what they’re called in native circles.”

“I wasn’t implying that he was a drug lord.” Annie drew a smile with her ketchup covered French fry. “He could be someone nice who just doesn’t have a place to stay.”

“I know.”

Johanna swiped some fries from Annie’s plate. “You should bring him something to drink. Like, something hot, so he doesn’t freeze.” Her voice was muffled by the potatoes. Annie rolled her eyes, reaching for Johanna’s wallet.

“I’m sure that he’ll be grateful that you bought him something, Jo.” She grinned.

Johanna reached for her like she was Rose Dawson as she jogged up to the counter.

* * *

Finnick blinked at her.

“What’s this?”

The wind forced his book shut. Loud clapping startled him, and his eyes darted down before he met her eyes again. She held the cup out like it was a trophy she’d dragged down from the heavens, clenching her eyes shut at the sound of shutterbugs behind her.

How would they work this into an article? It could range from _Annie Cresta Helps Homeless_ to a story about her new lover. She dug her teeth into her lower lip, grip growing tighter around the Styrofoam cup.

“It’s raspberry hot chocolate.”

He blinked again.

“I figured everyone likes raspberries, right? And hot chocolate is always good from this place,” She jutted a thumb behind her in the direction of the café. Annie didn’t dare turn around, out of fear of the shutterbugs getting a good shot, but also because she didn’t want to see her friends’ faces.

You’d think he could search for something to say in that book of his.

She sure that it only takes an hour for him to answer, but something inside of her brain tells her that it was probably just a minute.

“Is this some sort of publicity stunt?”

Annie jerked back as though she had been stung. “Excuse me?”

The corners of his mouth turned down, his jaw locked. “Because if it is, I don’t need anything. You can pull someone else into it.” He was able to speak without moving his lips, a skill Annie desperately envied.

“For your information, I don’t do shit like that, and I definitely wouldn’t pull someone that I just met into a game for attention.” The words flew out like spit fire. “I was just trying to do something nice because it’s freezing outside, and you barely have a coat on.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” He fired back. “A famous designer person starts prancing around me, trying to give me money and now…fruit flavored chocolate beverages?

“Wow.” Annie shook her head. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to joke about it, but she wasn’t feeling it. “How could you think so lowly of someone you just met?”

Finnick shrugs. With eyes downcast and a red face, he finally looked uncomfortable. Annie bit her lip, reminding herself that the reddened skin could be from the cold.

_He’s still rude, he’s still a rude stranger, he’s still a rude stranger…_

“Whatever, then. I’ll just leave it here, if you want it, or whatever.” She bent down, pressing the cup to the ground like it was an explosive.

“It’s not that I think lowly of you. You’re just…up there. And I’m not even on the scale.” He chuckled, but it was bitter, like the harsh winds that continued to blow his book cover shut. “I’m sorry.”

What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

“What are you reading?” She asked instead. His eyebrows pulled in together, but he held the cover of his book up anyway.

“ _The Count of Monte Cristo,”_ He shrugged his shoulders, a sheepish motion. “My mother used to read it to me.”

Annie bit her lip again. He sure didn’t have a problem giving out personal information to strangers. There were so many things she could say in response to that. “It sounds like a difficult read.”

Finnick shrugged again, the twinkle in his eyes more noticeable before. The green stood out amongst the red that coated his face. She stood there, staring at him. He stared back, hands itching towards the raspberry hot chocolate.

Annie took a step backwards. “I should probably get back to my friends…”

His eyes widened for a moment before snapping back to normal size. “You left your friends to deliver a hot chocolate to me?”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. To be honest, they were getting on my nerves, anyway.”

He gave her a knowing smile. “Thank you, Annie Cresta.”

“Stay warm, Finn.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be a one-shot, but I'm not sure anymore. What do you guys think?


End file.
